Love and Slavery
by guineamania
Summary: In 1819 France, slavery is still going strong much to the disgust of Monsiuer Julien Enjolras. So when he gets a new slave that refuses to treat him as a friend, rather than his Master Enjolras sets out to fix the new kid and finds himself growing very attached. Written for Poetic Kittens
1. Chapter 1

_**6/11/13**_

**This was originally intended as an e/R one-shot for Poetic Kittens but then I got hooked on the idea of slavery and this at least 6 chapter long piece grew so … I hope you enjoy the first chapter.**

**Love And Slavery**

**In this I have edited history slightly. It is set in 1812, and at this point Napoleon II would only be one year old. For the sake of this story please pretend he is fifteen.**

**Chapter 1**

Enjolras was leaning on the large oak door, peering through one of the gaps. His fist clenched at the fact he was reduced to eavesdropping. They had no right to do this without him. His father was currently buying his new personal slave; and Enjolras hated it. He hated slavery, he hated his father. His nails slowly dug even further into his palm as his anger grew and grew. "Javert, my good friend," Enjolras' father cheered, and Enjolras' attention was drawn back to what was happening through the crack. His father was stood in the courtyard with a large smile on his face. His usual slave trader, Javert, jumped from the top of his carriage.

"Monsieur Enjolras, I hear you only want the one today. A new slave for young Julien," Javert chuckled as he walked round the back of his poisonous cart. Enjolras' fury built at being shamed as 'young Julien'.

"That is it," Enjolras' father smiled as Javert hauled out the young boy; he could only be around twenty. Most of his slaves were in their mid-thirties, not early twenties. He was just a boy; it sickened Enjolras, using children that should be living their own lives. The boy's brown locks draped over one stunning chestnut eye and contrasted against his southern tanned complexion. It was fair to say this man was nothing like his father had bought him in the past. Maybe he might actually get along with this one.

"Now this boy comes from a great line. He worked for the royals. This one was personal slave to the young Napoleon II. I heard what you requested and he was perfect. He'll be wonderful as a companion to keep your boy out of trouble," Javert chuckled and Enjolras almost barged in there; he needed no companion slave, and no one would be able to stop him doing what he wanted.

"Why did our Emperor let him go then?" Enjolras' father questioned and Javert smiled.

"The young Napoleon stated to form affections for the pretty face, the boy just followed his orders and his young master began to use him in unsavoury ways," Javert admitted and Enjolras' could clearly see the slave tense at the mention.

"But the young emperor is only fifteen," Enjolras' father exclaimed. "How old is he?" he asked pointing to the ever silent slave.

Enjolras looked back to the slave. The slave had a metal gag secured round his mouth that was clearly paining him. All Enjolras wanted to do was dive out there and pull it off his lips. He was chained up like a common pet only with a pair of worn shorts covering his dignity. Whip lashes tore up his back, some old and some new. However what drew the majority of his attention was the _TF_ branded onto the slave's shoulder. He was a convict, used to be imprisoned in Toloun. "He's twenty," Javert replied with a malicious smile and Enjolras' father laughed.

"The young Napoleon must have had the best nights of his life," Enjolras' father chuckled and Enjolras was slightly sick in his mouth.

"Maybe your boy will want to take advantage of pretty boy," Javert sniggered and Enjolras gawped. The slave tensed with panic radiating through his whole figure and stumbled slightly back. Javert noticed this and sent the young boy sprawling on the floor. He skidded forwards tearing his knees but stayed with his head bent down as Javert's spiked boot pressed down on his scarred back. "This one needs to be punished for even the littlest things or he never learns," Javert hissed as he pressed down onto the slave's back.

Enjolras couldn't stand by and watch as this man was being brutally abused for no reason. The slave's arms collapsed underneath him but his expression never changed. It was of pure indifference. Enjolras barged the door open trying to keep a level head. "Papa? What's going on here?" Enjolras asked trying not to lash out at the slave trader. Javert slowly pulled the spikes out of the slave's back leaving bleeding holes in the space in between his shoulder blades. He still didn't move.

"This is your new slave, _mon fils_," his father smiled, patting his son on the back.

"Then I would quite like him to be able to function tonight," Enjolras practically snarled at Javert. He had always hated the man and that hatred was growing the longer he spent in his presence.

"Get up," Javert ordered the slave and he slowly rose to his knees and knelt with his head bowed in front of Enjolras. Enjolras circled him, playing the part he hated so much, and stopped when he was stood back in front of him again.

"What's this?" Enjolras asked pointing to the gag like device. Javert's sadistic grin returned.

"Napoleon ordered it be on. So he could not spread his poisonous lies anymore and he would not be kissing anyone else anytime soon," he explained and Enjolras felt horrified and slightly sick once again.

"A metal wedge is stuck under his tongue and a band tightened around it," Javert explained with a disgusting glee. "So he cannot talk and…" Javert began before Enjolras interrupted him.

"Give me the keys," he demanded with his palm outstretched.

"I cannot; he has to serve out his sentence. He's lucky not to be back in prison, the little rat," Javert snarled, kicking the hunched over figure.

"How much will it cost for those damn keys," Enjolras hissed, stepping forwards so he was face to face with the sadistic slaver. After a ridiculously large transfer of money Enjolras had to keys in his hand and was stood with the boy.

Once the cart was rattling down the drive, Enjolras pulled the new slave along behind him in a furious frenzy. The slave hurried along despite the pain in his legs, back and mouth. He stumped to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut clearly expecting his first beating. Enjolras knelt down next to him and looked in shock. It was clear he was barely out of his teens yet he acted like an eight-year-old about to be scolded. Yet he stood with pride and faced his foes with indifference. There was a war waging inside this boy; pride and dignity against fear and pain. It was tearing him apart; Enjolras couldn't let what seemed like a fine boy go to waste. He would do all that he could to fix him, which began with helping him back to his unsteady feet. The slave stared at him shocked. The master never helped the slaves. He nodded in thanks and Enjolras smiled. Enjolras led him into the kitchens and slave's quarters. "I need the medical kit, quickly!" he shouted with urgency. He sat the new slave on one of the tables before slowly unlocking the contraption round his mouth and carefully working it off. The slave's mouth filled with blood but he didn't dare spit it on the floor. Enjolras watched the child closely; he could clearly see the pain tearing through his body and the blood clearly building up in his mouth. Enjolras picked up a bucket and held it tenderly under the slave's mouth; he couldn't believe that someone would blatantly disregard his own necessities out of politeness. His slave slowly spat out the blood eying Enjolras' response. He nodded encouragingly. A younger boy ran in with the medical kit, his long blonde hair streaming out behind him. He looked up at the new slave and gawped. "R?" the boy asked and the new slave's head shot up in surprise.


	2. Chapter 2

_**11/11/13**_

**Wow … seriously wow. I never thought this would get such a good response from you guys. I am so grateful … keep it up mon amis! **

**Chapter 2**

"Nic!" the younger slave exclaimed, throwing the medical supplies to the side and leapt on the new kid hugging him. Enjolras stood to the side bemused. He stepped back and found the supplies where the boy had thrown them.

"Jehan, I presume you know my new personal slave," Enjolras chuckled and Jehan released the pained man. Jehan nodded.

"This is Nicolas Grantaire and he cared for me when I was on the streets before I was caught," Jehan explained with a smile. Enjolras nodded as he patched up Grantaire's back and sewed up his tongue.

"Then I thank you," Enjolras smiled. Grantaire frowned at both Jehan and Enjolras; this was completely wrong, a master should be so friendly and kind to his slaves. Grantaire couldn't suppress a flinch every time Enjolras touched his bare skin. Enjolras felt so sorry for the twenty-year-old; no should have had to go through what he did. He was punished for being raped; that was not right, in no way shape or form. "There you go," Enjolras murmured with a small smile that was not reciprocated by Grantaire. Jehan gave Grantaire a little nudge as if to reassure him it was alright to speak.

"Thank you master," Grantaire whispered almost inaudibly, as if he was testing out his tongue. Enjolras sighed; he should have known he would be another one that insisted on calling him master or sir. He hated it.

"Grantaire, we need to get some things straight! You can talk to me about anything; you can argue with me and please, never call me master or sir!" Enjolras explained in despair and thankfully Grantaire nodded without an argument.

"Jean, will you show Grantaire around and get him acquainted with how we work around here and get him a bed and some tea," Enjolras sighed and left the duo. But instead he found himself eavesdropping for the second time that day.

"R, I've missed you so much," Jehan smiled, leaning on his almost brother.

"I missed you too Jehan …I'm sorry," he mumbled, kissing the top of Jehan's head.

"Whatever for?" the sweet blonde little kitchen boy asked.

"Getting myself arrested and leaving you alone. If I hadn't you wouldn't be here," he exclaimed, in self-loathing.

"If you hadn't stolen I would be dead," Jehan replied, holding him close. "What did that nasty prince do to you, _mon frère_? You're not the same," Jehan whispered as Grantaire tensed against his touch.

"I don't – I don't want to talk about it," he stuttered and Jehan nodded solemnly. Enjolras darted away from the door before the two slaves left and ran to his quarters. He had no idea what his fascination with his new slave was; but Enjolras needed to know his past. He was a gamin, ex-con slave; what was his story?

XXX

The next morning, Grantaire started work and he reported to Enjolras. The Enjolras family had always taken great pride in how their slaves were presented. They never wore rags or tattered clothes; Grantaire entered Enjolras' room in the morning wearing the normal black trousers, a crisp short sleeved white shirt and a black waistcoat. When Enjolras turned round he was struck down, Grantaire wasn't incredibly muscular or traditionally handsome. But yet he looked smart and quite good looking in the formal attire. Enjolras smiled slightly at him; but Grantaire's expression remained stoic. He was every inch the perfect obedient slave; and Enjolras hated it. He bowed slightly still standing straight. "Please don't do that," Enjolras sighed but Grantaire still did not respond. Enjolras always liked a challenge.

"Sir, your father requests that you join him at the ball this evening," Grantaire explained with his naturally gruff tone.

"What did I tell you about calling me sir?" Enjolras sighed, leaning back on his chair.

"I don't seem to remember, sir," Grantaire replied, staring out with Enjolras. Neither man wanted to back down.

"I said don't," he growled as he turned back around away from the infuriatingly perfect slave.

"I'm afraid I can't obey that, master," Grantaire spoke out proudly as Enjolras clenched his fists. If anything annoyed him more than slavery in itself, it was slaves that stuck to the unwritten laws of human ownership.

"And why is that?" he asked bluntly refusing to turn around.

"Your father's express orders override your own so I must behave as he wishes …sir," Grantaire replied still staring at a blank spot on the wall.

XXX

"How dare you order my hand slave what to do?" Enjolras screamed at his father. His father could ruin his whole plan to get Grantaire to be more like Jean. Jean Prouvaire had come into their service as an eight year old boy straight off the streets. He had been caught by the cops and brought to the slave master Javert to sell on. Enjolras had convinced their father that they needed a junior kitchen slave so they could save the young boy. His father had eventually agreed saying he was completely Enjolras' responsibility and if Enjolras wanted him to stay then Enjolras had to look after him. The twenty-one-year-old Enjolras had devoted all his time into getting the little boy to open up and educating him. He was a smart child and now it was five years later and he had a flair for English poets. You could always find Jehan with a book of Wordsworth when he should really be sleeping. Now he doubted Grantaire would be a closet poet like his little Jehan but he had to get him to open up; and be more like a friend to him than a slave.

"I bought him, Julien! He is my property! I can give him orders that outrank yours anytime I should wish to. This isn't like your little pet project anymore, he is mine!" the older Enjolras shouted with rage that matched his son's.

"He is just a boy; let me work with him like I did with Jean! Jean is so much more valuable to us now than he was, I can do the same with Grantaire!" Enjolras screamed passionately.

"You get too attached to the staff, Julien. See you know him as Nicolas or Grantaire. He responds better to his title," he father smirked. "One-Nine-Oh-Seven!" he shouted and Grantaire entered the hall bowing to both of the Enjolras men.

"What do you wish, masters?" he asked with that same monotonous voice that drove Enjolras insane.

"I wish for you to give your honest opinion," the older Enjolras began. "What do you think of this house?" he asked and Grantaire froze.

"I do not wish to speak out of turn, my lord," he replied, slightly nervous. Enjolras nearly flipped at the use of my lord.

"I am asking you to, One-Nine-Oh-Seven," he clarified and Grantaire nodded.

"I find this house different to what I have experienced before and what I expected," he stated clearly. "I have been cared for in a way no slave should and I am grateful for that treatment. However I have been brought here to work and that is what I shall do," Grantaire finished and Enjolras' father's smile grew.

"How would you feel about learning to read and write?" his father continued.

"If it necessary to serve then I would learn. If it is not then it is a waste of time that could be better spent serving your family," he replied without a thought.

Enjolras knew what it was; Grantaire was acting out of self-preservation. If he answered the questions in exactly the way the elder Enjolras wished then he would not get hurt. Maybe the boy was smarter than everyone gave him credit for.

"That'll be all One-Nine-Oh-Seven," his father smiled, nodding to one of the security guards. The guard practically pounced on the unsuspecting boy, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and dragging him out. Grantaire instinctively lashed out without realising and received a bloodied lip and a black eye for his attempt. He was dragged out and the door slammed shut. Julien's anger reached its zenith.

"How dare you! What did he do?" Enjolras screamed with his nails digging into his own palm.

"He lied to me," Enjolras' father shrugged leaving the room. "You are needed at the ball tonight and I will be needing the slave boy's services," he stated and the door slammed shut once again, leaving Enjolras in an eerie silence.


	3. Chapter 3

_**24/11/13**_

**Hey guys, so I have a little thing to ask of you. Does anyone know how to improve self-esteem and generally get rid of shyness because I just feel as if I am ignored unless it suits someone. It is just because I want to comicon today and it was a fabulous day but I felt left out and within two minutes my friends had found a 'better' Loki than me and were messing about and leaving me out. I just wish that I could be a more interesting and witty and generally good looking person but I just can't. Sorry to rant at you guys but it is just that on the internet I can be the person I desperately wish to be.**

**Anyway, thanks to all you that read that long AN and enjoy the next chapter**

**Sorry again but just wondering whether I should go as Loki again next year or I was debating going as Captain America. Also if anyone wants to see funny pictures of my Comicon escapades then PM me :) **

**Chapter 3**

"I can tie a bow tie!" Enjolras snapped as Grantaire tried to help him dress. He was still furious with his father and his stupid ball; but unfortunately his new hand slave was bearing the brunt of his anger. Grantaire stepped backwards nodding silently and Enjolras looked over the slave. All the staff was required for this event and Enjolras was not impressed with the change to Grantaire's uniform. He was in a ridiculously tight white shirt that showed off his muscles from the hard labour. The neck revealed too much of his torso and the black waistcoat amplified it. He was protective of the twenty-year-old boy; and this infuriated him even more. Eventually the tie was tied and Grantaire held the door open for Enjolras. He just stormed out in his fit of rage. He just hated it. Grantaire followed two steps behind him and slightly to the right until they reached the ball room. "R," Jehan yelled from the stairs to the kitchen and his slave disappeared down there.

Enjolras sat on one of the futons round the edge of the hall. This was less like a ball, more like an old men's club that young ones were forced to attend. There were even rooms round the side for people to go for 'privacy'. It sickened him. His best friend, Lucien Combeferre, wasn't forced to attend these things with his father. Combeferre's father was one of the only decent adults there was in the world. He treated all his slaves like paid staff and some like friends. That's what Enjolras wanted to be like when he grew up. He downed his champagne and sighed as a slave refilled his glass. Upon seeing the slave he found himself concerned for his latest project. He hadn't seen Grantaire since the beginning of the evening. A girl came and sat down next to him. "Looking for some entertainment tonight, sir?" she asked jokily and he found himself smiling.

"Do I ever Ep?" he asked Eponine, one of the kitchen maids. She giggled softly and leant on him.

"Thought you might like to excuse yourself from this function I know you hate," she giggled and for once he shook his head.

"I need to keep an eye out for the new guy…so he doesn't get into a mess," Enjolras sighed and Eponine visibly tensed.

"You mean the new guy who was just dragged into a private room by Napoleon II, looking on the verge of tears," she mumbled, within milliseconds Enjolras was on his feet.

Enjolras ran round the hall, shamelessly listening to each door. It was easy to pretend he was drunk and just falling on them but his disguise came together when Eponine grabbed his arm. "Thanks Ep," he whispered in her ear as he pretended to kiss her.

"Anytime, what's up with the new kid anyway?" she asked.

"He is my new slave bought off none other than Napoleon II. Napoleon sold him after his son started to do 'things' to Grantaire," Enjolras explained as the fury rose in Eponine's slender frame.

"I'll kill him," she hissed. "No one does non-consent to one of us," she growled and they renewed their search with more vigour. They peered through the key hole of one of the suites and Enjolras snarled. Napoleon II was sat on the bed with Grantaire laid on his lap sobbing. His hands and feet were bound and he was curled up in a fetal position. Enjolras' nails almost drew blood as they clenched into fists. Grantaire's too tight shirt and waistcoat were discarded on the floor as the emperor to be stroked Grantaire's hair; every touch made the man flinch. His trousers were somewhere in the room and Grantaire's underwear hung round his hips torn.

"What's wrong my little dog…did you miss me?" Napoleon, Jr. asked as Grantaire just trembled. Enjolras wanted to kick the door down but he couldn't without getting himself, Grantaire and Eponine into trouble. "I miss you my angel, I missed the nights we spent together," he whispered, brushing Grantaire's ear with his lips. Grantaire whimpered trying to move away but the man just laughed. "We will get to that soon, Nic," he chuckled and Grantaire stiffened in fear. "I'll be less violent if you enjoy it this time," the emperor's son threatened subtly and Grantaire's sobs died down in fear. Eponine picked the lock and barged in before Enjolras could stop her.

"Sir, the duke of Albufera wishes to speak with you urgently," she stated standing emotionlessly in the doorway. The young napoleon sighed in despair before patting Grantaire's hair.

"I will be back soon, _mon petit_," he giggled before laying Grantaire on the bed and handcuffing his arms to the bedpost. Grantaire's head dropped down in defeat; it pained Enjolras to the soul.

As Eponine distracted the man now in second place on his most hated list, Enjolras ran into the room to rescue Grantaire. It took his longer than he would have liked to pick the cuffs but eventually Grantaire's limp body hit the bed. "Nic, Nic, come on look at me," he encouraged, lifting the boy's chin. Grantaire looked up at him with that same mask of indifference but his eyes showed different emotions. His eyes radiated unbridled fear but inside there was a spark of something Enjolras was pleased to see, gratitude. Enjolras darted around in a flushed frenzy finding all of Grantaire's clothes and slowly helping him into them. He knew that Grantaire needed to take things slow but Enjolras was dying to get the fragile child out. "Play along," he whispered as he linked his arm with Grantaire's. Enjolras forced on a smile but Grantaire was still obviously completely shaken as he clung to his master's arm as if Enjolras could protect him from all the evils in the world. It was an improvement. If Grantaire trusted him then Enjolras could finally do something with him.

Enjolras hurried through the crowded hall avoiding his father and Napoleon II. They managed to get up the stairs before anyone noticed them properly. Eponine joined them on the stairs holding Enjolras' other arm to look inconspicuous. They hurried into his room and sat Grantaire down on the bed. Eponine turned to face the new kid and gawped in a similar way to Jehan's reaction. "Nicolas!" she exclaimed and he looked up. His face brightened considerably, it was like he was a different person.

"Madame Thénardier, it is a pleasure to see you once again, my lady," he smiled weakly as if they were drifting into an old routine. Enjolras stared perplexed again but after some encouragement from Eponine, Grantaire spoke up, quietly. "Eponine was the Duchess of Parma's chambermaid when I first came to be in Napoleon's service. She taught me everything I needed to know to survive as a slave. And she was the first person to treat me like a real person since the time I was on the streets with Jehan," Grantaire explained with a blush spreading across his golden brown cheeks. Enjolras could see that he hated admitting things about his past; but Enjolras needed to know about him. The mystery was killing him slowly.

"Nicolas, you can trust me," Enjolras stated and for once it looked like Grantaire was agreeing with him. Obviously saving him from the vicious clutches of the royal family had allowed Grantaire to actually thank his owner and he prayed he would open up now. "I would like to know what you have been though," he murmured tentatively and only just concealed his shock when Grantaire reluctantly nodded. They sat next to each other on the bed with Grantaire trembling slightly but acting strong. Eponine sat by the door, keeping an eye and ear out for anyone that might want to disturb them.

"I was born into an aristocratic family in Paris," he began with a sigh. "However at the end of the revolution we lost everything. We weren't a bad family, I know how revolutionary you are, but we weren't cruel on the poor. We kept what we needed to live on and donated the rest to people who needed it more; yes we had servants but that was just to get people off the streets!" he exclaimed, defending his honour. Enjolras nodded with a smile; he liked families who used their riches as the Grantaires did. Grantaire's parents seemed like good people. "They were killed at the end of the Reign of Terror for having money," he mumbled, and Enjolras' heart sunk. He loved revolution but he hated what happened after the last one. "The revolutionaries didn't have the heart to kill a four-year-old boy, so cast me out on the streets with nothing. Said it was to teach me what it was like to live without money. I starved for weeks until I was found dying in a gutter by some older urchins that took pity on the poor infant," he continued, his voice began to fail him slightly. Enjolras rested a hand on his knee reassuringly. Grantaire flinch and slowly shrank back into his shell. Enjolras could tell he was still unsure about his master's intentions; and of course he hated physical contact, that was to be expected. But after a reassuring nod from Eponine, he began to talk again. "They taught me how to live on the streets until the revolutionaries who were giving us food found out who I was. I was cast out or they would stop getting given food. At this point I could pickpocket and fend for myself. When the Reign of Terror ended soon after, there began to be more and more poor families and children were on the streets and we started helping each other. It was five years later when I met Jehan. He was kicked out of his family for being gay and different when he was five. I took him under my wing, remembering how lonely and lost I was on the streets at that age. We lived together and I raised him until I was thirteen. Things got bad so I started breaking into houses to feed us both," he sighed and Enjolras could see where this was heading.

"One day I was caught breaking into a rich house to get us some food and something to sell to buy Jehan new shoes. I lied telling them I was eighteen so they wouldn't stick me in some orphanage. I was taken to Toulon for a sentence of twenty five years. But four years in they worked out how old I actually was; as I was a minor they couldn't legally keep me in prison but as I was seventeen, one year in an orphanage wasn't enough of a punishment. So they sentenced me to a lifetime of slavery. The only way I could be freed was through marriage to an aristocratic family but no one would want to marry an ex-convict, gamin slave," he finished with tears running down his face.


	4. Chapter 4

_**13/1/14**_

**I have a question for all my readers. The plot I originally had fell down spectacularly and so I have spent a while staring at a blank document and frowning at myself.**

**Basically this has led to me practically reinventing the second half of this fanfiction; would anyone here mind if this no longer ended with e/R? Because it is either going to be a really depressing and slightly weird e/R ending or a complete more logical and overall better thought out R/OFC ending … but I don't wanna lose readers due to the fact it is not e/R anymore. E and R will still grow very close but in a brotherly sorta way not a kissy sorta way. I ****need**** your opinions!**

**Also sorry this is so short but this was such a cute way to end it.**

**Chapter 4**

Eponine walked over and held him close to her silently. Enjolras had the sense to back off as Grantaire openly wept onto Eponine's shoulder. Enjolras hated being the cause of this sorrow; but he just had to know what had happened in Grantaire's past to bring him to this point. So that he could help him like he had helped Grantaire's little charge. Because that is all Enjolras wanted, to help people; whether it was to save the world from the corruption of humanity or help a lost boy find a home. Grantaire's brown hair cascaded over his teary eyes and for once Enjolras let his heart decide. He leant over and pushed Grantaire's hair behind his ear. Grantaire flinched and looked up into his eyes, as if to check his motives once again. His eyes were full of caution and distrust and Enjolras couldn't stand seeing it there anymore. His heart twisted in his chest as Grantaire's whole body shook in fear. "I only want to help you Grantaire," Enjolras whispered, staring into Grantaire's eyes in an attempt to show his positive intentions. After his confession, the slave did seem to trust him more but the divide was still evident in his eyes. Had anything really changed?

XXX

"Sir, it is time to awake," Grantaire spoke as the sunlight poured through the now open curtains straight onto Enjolras' face. Enjolras moaned, rolling over and covering his face with one of his pillows.

"R," Enjolras moaned, refusing to relinquish his hold on the pillow despite Grantaire's attempts.

"Master Enjolras, if you do not get dressed now then you will late for your lunch with Master Combeferre," Grantaire insisted, finally wrestling the pillow out of Enjolras' grip and piling Enjolras' clothes for the day on top of his body. Only one thing had changed since their heart to heart the night before, Grantaire had stopped dancing around him like Enjolras would kill him any moment. He was clearly still following orders from Enjolras' father, hence the sir and Master Enjolras, but was acting more like a servant than a slave. However, he still wasn't a friend like Enjolras wished him to be. Although, he was right, Enjolras was going to be late to lunch with Combeferre.

"Ferre! Thank god!" Enjolras exclaimed, hugging his best friend with a sigh of relief. He had been tailed around by Grantaire and had endured a lecture from his father about how he should be making better acquaintances than his current friends before he managed to slide out of the house and walk to the café in blissful silence. "They have all been driving me crazy!" he exclaimed as they hurried out of the cold into the bustle of the Café Musain. Once they were seated, Enjolras dived into the tale of how Eponine now hated him for everything Grantaire had been through and the concept of slavery … for some unknown reason, how his father was driving him even more crazy than usual and how Grantaire seemed to irk him by simply just being there.

"You just need to live with it 'Jolras. You have to admit that Grantaire is better than all your other manservants," Combeferre replied, always the voice of reason. Enjolras shuddered at the thought of the other creepy thirty something year old men that used to help him dress. Combeferre was right, as always.

"I guess Ferre," Enjolras sighed, resting his head on the cool wood of the table.

"And don't forget that little Elise is back today," Combeferre added with a smile, trying to cheer his lifelong best friend up. Elise was Enjolras' eighteen year old little sister who had been away at college for a few months.

"I can't wait," Enjolras grinned, he was eight years older than little Elise and had felt great pride in watching the child he had known all her life grow into the mature independent woman she is now. He couldn't wait until she got home this evening.

XXX

Enjolras continued to talk with Combeferre but the rest of the evening was turning to their slightly more private affairs. Enjolras ran a social justice group who were trying to make slavery illegal. It was going to take a lot of work but Enjolras was dedicated. They talked long into the afternoon and on the way back to his house, Enjolras felt some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He arrived back home to see his sister's cases in the doorway. "Elise!" Enjolras called out but there was no response so he walked up to her rooms. He was about to walk in when he heard people talking. "I can't believe I've missed so much around here. You sound really sweet Grantaire, I really don't know why Jul was so grumpy in his letters," Elise chuckled from inside the room. Enjolras subtly peered in as Grantaire began talking.

"Master Enjolras just doesn't like to be bossed around and wants better for the slaves that reside here," Grantaire replied as he was unpacking for Elise and putting away all her clothes and belongings. The girl in question was laid in her ridiculously pink bed staring up at the ceiling.

"I think I'll like you R," Elise chuckled, her bright blue eyes twinkling and platinum blonde her spread all around her petit face. "And even though it is great to be back I dread it you know," she sighed, rolling over to face Grantaire with sadness spreading across her face.

"Why?" Grantaire asked, settling down on one of the empty boxes to listen. Enjolras had never realised how calm and good at listening Grantaire was; a lot better than him anyway.

"I'm eighteen now, Papa is going to want to get me married off. It was an arrangement he had with mother, he promised that he would wait until I finished my education before a marriage and thankfully he has stuck to that," Elise mumbled with a regretful sigh. "I wish I could marry someone for love R," she added, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's okay Miss Elise, I'm something will resolve your problem," Grantaire smiled softly, gently kissing the back of her hand.

Now it was time for Enjolras to interrupt. "Elise?" he called out, knocking on the door. Grantaire jumped to his feet and returned to opening the next box of clothes and accessories; Elise sat up, straightened her dress.

"Come in!" Elise shouted back, beaming as she waited to see her brother once again. Enjolras pushed the door open gently, grinning as he saw his baby sister sat on her bed. "Jul! She exclaimed, throwing herself on her older brother. He was about a head taller than the slight girl; they made a beautiful family picture as they embraced. Grantaire continued unpacking, hiding a small smile.


End file.
